


Discwarts

by EmbleGiraffe



Category: Discworld - Terry Pratchett, Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-19
Updated: 2018-03-19
Packaged: 2019-04-04 15:16:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,518
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14023047
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EmbleGiraffe/pseuds/EmbleGiraffe
Summary: A non canon, Discworld/Harry Potter crossover





	Discwarts

**Author's Note:**

  * For [RapidashPatronus](https://archiveofourown.org/users/RapidashPatronus/gifts).



Discwarts  
A Discworld/Harry Potter crossover fiction, (non canon).  
Foreword:   
As a child I was an avid reader; I’d have several books on the go at once. I couldn’t fall asleep until I’d read for at least an hour every night. Sadly as I grew older, I began suffering from depression, making it very difficult for me to focus on anything, including reading. Despite my mental health not allowing me to visit the worlds within my favourite books, they always felt like they were carrying on in the background. On May 25th I wear lilac; at 11am on September the 1st, I cast my mind to Platform 9¾.  
Then Sir Terry died.  
In 2015 when I heard of Terry Pratchett’s death, it felt like my chest went hollow. The Discworld had always been carrying on, swimming through space, its inhabitants living their day to day lives in the background of my mind. When Terry passed away, the door to the Discworld slammed shut with a bang that left me breathless. I lost my connection to that universe.  
I did not know Sir Terry, but I miss him.  
Recently (it’s now 2018) I sought out help for my depression and since I have started medication, I feel more like my normal self; I am able to focus more on old hobbies and have even started a few new ones…..which is where Discwarts comes in. Following on from a very silly conversation with my most beautiful best friend Cressida, I began writing, I found the Discworld again, I just needed to know to look in the Room of Requirement. Here is my ode to my favourite worlds, to my favourite writers and to getting back to my favourite self.

 

The Story:  
Granny was unhappy. This, in itself, was not an unusual event: Granny spent much of her time being unhappy - it was one of the joys of life - but this unhappiness was different. Today, she was unhappy because she didn’t know where she was. Granny Weatherwax prided herself on her mind; she always had a deeply rooted sense of exactly who she was and a deep connection with the land, and this was not HER land. There was magic here. Wizard magic.  
“Coo-ee, Esme!” Nanny bellowed across the courtyard.  
Nanny Ogg was a witch - possibly the second best witch in the Ramtops. The best witch was Granny Weatherwax, which was probably why she looked so angry: they weren’t in the Ramtops anymore. Nanny tended not to worry about that sort of thing and had instead located the kitchens.  
“Nice castle isn’t it, Esme! ’S’called Hogwarts.”  
“Ha,” snorted Granny. “Sounds like an illness!”  
“It’s a school, Esme!” continued Nanny. “I’ve been chatting to the servants, and well… you should probably meet them. They ain’t what we’re used to.”  
As Nanny bustled ahead, Granny gazed at the castle around her. She had arrived in a huge stone courtyard; towers reared above them in every direction, each a different shape and height. The building didn’t look like it had been built so much as thrown together as required; she could feel the magic all around her, crackling in the air and pulsing through the walls. The building felt alive.  
The corridor they were following led to a dead end.  
“There was an arch here just a minute ago,” Nanny Ogg considered quizzically.  
“You’re cracking, Gytha, nobody can magic stone that quickly.” Granny closed her eyes. “...Unless the stone magics itself.” She placed her hand on the wall where Nanny had indicated the entrance had been. “Alright, open up!” she commanded. The wall shifted: the stones twisted and folded away like they were made of sponge, leaving an archway big enough to fit an elephant. Through the arch was the largest kitchen the witches had ever seen.  
“Good isn’t it!” said Nanny. “Well done with that arch, I haven’t seen you magic stone in a long time.”  
“I didn’t magic it,” Granny sniffed. “It knew how to open up. I just made it think of the consequences of staying shut.”  
The witches strode into the kitchen, taking in the delicious smells of frying bacon, sizzling sausages and smoking haddock.  
“Must be breakfast,” mused Nanny, while she eagerly looked for where she could get some.  
“So where are the maids then, Gytha? Big kitchen like this at breakfast time, should be bustling.” Granny scowled. She had just seen the eggs scrambling themselves and she wasn’t happy about it.  
“Well, see, I met a few of the staff earlier, Esme, and…” Nanny paused, not sure how to say it. “You see, they’re not like us… I mean, they’re odd.” She trailed off.  
“We can’t none of us help how we’re made Gytha, it’s not like you to go judging people for being different.”  
Nanny was shifting uncomfortably. “No, Esme, well... it’s just... they’re not exactly people.”  
Granny didn’t have time to find out what it was Nanny was alluding to before she saw a massive pair of batlike ears poking over the top of one of the grand tables. It was shortly followed by a pair of bulging, wary, watery eyes as a bizarre creature slowly revealed itself to the witches.  
“Hullo mistresses, is you new teachers?” the strange being squeaked. It stepped out from its hiding place.  
Granny stared at the small creature. It was scrawny and wearing a toga which looked to be made from a tea-towel that had been emblazoned with a large crest: she could see the initial “H” in the centre of the symbol. Granny became aware of many more of the creatures appearing around the kitchen and the rooms beyond all wearing tea-towel togas with the same embroidered emblem.  
“What are they, Gytha?”  
“They call themselves house-elves, Esme.”  
“Elves?!” Granny snapped.  
“Yes, Esme, but I don’t think they’re like our elves. They’re the servants here.”  
“Nanny!” one of the elves squealed as it ran forward. “Is this the friend you went to find?”  
“Hullo again Falry! Yep, this is Granny; she wanted to come and see your kitchen.”  
The elf puffed up with pride. “Pleased to meet you, missus! Welcome to the Hogwarts kitchens! We are the house elves.” The elf curtsied and the elves around her joined in; soon all of the creatures were bowing and curtseying to the astonished witches.  
“No need for that sort of thing,” Granny sniffed.  
Now that the guests had been welcomed and the elves were sure they were not a threat to the kitchen, they went back to preparing breakfast. Granny watched as they magically transported the mounds of glistening bacon and eggs onto the hundreds of plates spread over the five large tables which took up the centre of the humongous kitchen. She noted that the table at the head of the other four had ornate plates and goblets which outshone even the beautiful china of the other tables.  
“Falry, was it?” Granny asked the elf, who was busy loading a plate of sausages for Nanny Ogg. “You said Hogwarts earlier. What is that?”  
“This is Hogwarts missus! The castle! It is a school for magic, but surely you know that?”

Elsewhere, the Archchancellor inhaled sharply. This was not a wise move, considering he was deep within a lake. The darkness around him was absolute and the silence throbbed in his ears. Mustrum Ridcully was used to odd things happening, as the head of a magical university in which promotion was achieved via “dead man’s shoes”, it was not unknown for a wizard to vanish mysteriously. However, until now, it had never been him.  
Ridcully realised that he was deep underwater and that he had no sense of which way was up. Thankfully, he also realised he had his staff with him. A wizard’s staff is a conduit for his magic: they are often large, ornate objects, covered in mysterious runes and glimmering gemstones, which the wizards believe enhances their power. Witches know that this is nonsense and anyone half-decent at magic can do it with a twig, but they didn’t tell the wizards that.  
The Archchancellor began blasting his way through the water, directing powerful bolts of magic away from him, in what he hoped was a downward direction. He shot through the water like a tornado, being pushed faster and faster by the magical discharges. The octarine light illuminated the water around him: he could see blurry shapes that almost looked like people with fish tails hurriedly swimming away from him and some strange green shapes lurking warily in the weed beds below. Above him loomed a humongous form, almost spider like with long, powerful tentacles.  
The giant squid was not happy about the invader in its home. It could feel the magic discharging away violently, upsetting the Merpeople and Grindylows alike. The squid wrapped its extensive tentacles around the invader, dragging him upwards towards the surface; it could feel the strange magical creature thumping it with a stick and blasting it with magical bolts. This was not improving the squid’s mood. Once the giant squid hit the surface of the lake, it angrily hurled the wizard away towards the shore, lambasting it with ink in annoyance before vanishing once more into the deep.  
“Blast,” shouted the drenched Ridcully. “That thing would have looked excellent stuffed and hanging from the Uncommon room ceiling!”  
“Who’s that then?” boomed a voice.  
Ridcully spun around, wiping ink from his eyes and staring in the direction of the stranger striding towards him. It took a moment for his eyes to focus: the perspective was wrong.  
This damn ink is messing with my vision, he thought, before realising that the figure rapidly heading for him really was enormous.  
“Blimey fellow, you must be eight feet tall!”  
“Must I,” the giant growled. “What are you doin’ upsettin’ the squid eh?”  
“Upsetting it?” choked Ridcully as the water he’d so recently inhaled made its way back up. “I wanted to bag the bugger! I say, you wouldn’t have a drab of Bentinck's Very Old Peculiar would you? I left mine in my other hat.”  
The humongous man stared at Ridcully with a frown on his face, then began patting at his coat, rummaging for something.  
“Dunno what’s peculiar,” he was muttering. “Got something somewhere... Ah! Here we are!” He handed a flask to the spluttering Archchancellor. “Have a swig of this”.  
Ridcully gratefully accepted the canteen and took a long gulp of the burning amber liquid.  
“EASY!” shouted the giant. “That’s Ogden's Old Firewhisky! It’s strong stuff!”  
“LOVELY,” wheezed the Archchancellor, handing back the hipflask. “Just want I needed.” He stuck out his ink-black hand. “...Ah, one second.”  
He waved his staff and the mixture of lake water, ink and mud splatted off in every direction, including onto the large man’s legs.  
“Mustrum Ridcully,” he announced, shaking the giant by two of his enormous fingers. “Archchancellor of the Unseen University, Ankh-Morpork.”  
“Hagrid,” the huge man replied. Then, seeming to decide that wasn’t quite enough: “Rubeus Hagrid, Care of Magical Creatures professor and Keeper of Keys and Grounds at Hogwarts.”  
“A gamekeeper, capital!” Ridcully clapped his hands together while taking in his surroundings, “Looks like a good place for game. I’d bet you get some mighty stags in those woods! I wish I had my crossbow.”  
Ever since Hagrid was small - or, to be more accurate, ever since he was young - he’d always been fascinated by animals, beasts, creatures both magical and non-magical alike. He’d spent much of his youth searching for dragons, raising Acromantula and trying to peek at Boggarts. It had never occurred to him that to some people a Hippogriff could simply be a target. He didn’t know who this man was, but he was getting the sneaking suspicion that he didn’t like him, and Hagrid had always liked pretty much everybody.  
“We don’t hunt our creatures here, Mr Ridcully. We study ‘em, raise ‘em and care for ‘em when they’re hurt.”  
“Where’s the sport in that?” Ridcully cried.  
“Creatures is not sport, they’re themselves, we look out for ‘em and that is that!” Hagrid boomed. “Scuse me, but I think I’d best be getting you up to the castle. The headmaster will want to know that we have a visitor.”  
“Headmaster!” Ridcully roared. “This is a school? Wonderful!”  
The Archancellor liked schools. Like his own university, he assumed there would be feasts, wizards to bully, and above all, a chance to meet this other headmaster and see who had the biggest staff.  
“This is Hogwarts,” Hagrid stated proudly. “Follow me.” He strode off towards the huge, elaborate building.  
Ridcully looked back wistfully at the nearby forest and lake, longing for a chance to hunt, fish or even go coursing, but the giant was right: he’d best find out what was going on and speaking to this headmaster of his seemed the best way to go about it. The Archancellor scurried along, managing to keep up with Hagrid’s swift pace without showing too much strain as they climbed the hill towards the castle.

Professor Dumbledore looked over his half-moon spectacles at his recently arrived guest.  
“Then it seems we must act quickly,” he mused.  
“Precisely,” the man across the desk concluded with a curl of the lip which could have been mistaken for a smile, if not for his eyes.  
At that moment the office door burst open.  
“Professor!” Hagrid exclaimed as he stepped forward, only to be pushed back by the Archchancellor, who was making sure that his was the grander entrance.  
Ridcully strode across the office and clasped the Headmaster’s hand in a handshake he had spent years perfecting to ensure he left the recipient in no doubt that the Archchancellor was not someone to be trifled with. Unfortunately for Mustrum, Professor Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore was partial to trifles.  
“You must be Archchancellor Ridcully of the Unseen University,” Dumbledore smiled, shaking Ridcully’s hand with a grip that would crush bones and not a flinch on his kind, tranquil face. “A pleasure to make your acquaintance. I’ve been hearing all about you and your university; I must say, it has piqued my interest”  
Flabbergasted, Ridcully spluttered something that sounded like “GRZBCTS?” before finally registering the svelte gentleman clad all in black in the chair he had strode past so confidently mere seconds before.  
“Vetinari!” Ridcully exclaimed. “What the devil are you doing here? And while we’re on that topic can you tell me what I’m doing here as well?”

Madam Pince pursed her lips contemplatively. She was unsure of what to do, and her own encyclopaedic and authoritative knowledge of library protocols had let her down. She tapped absentmindedly on the desk, gazing over to the unknown visitor. Suddenly a thought struck her, and she quickly rifled through the ancient tome of rule and regulations which had been handed down from Hogwarts librarian to Hogwarts librarian.  
“P... P... ahh, Pets. Pets are not allowed in the library under any circumstances - aha! - A pet is defined as any domestic or tamed animal or creature kept for companionship or pleasure; this does not extend to magical creatures with self-awareness and/or autonomy such as service elves, centaurs, ghosts and animagus. See Section 6: Animagus, for rules on public transfiguration.” She hesitated, gazing over at the visitor and trying to decide if the definition of pet extended to the lone bibliophile who was calmly and avidly perusing her library with a care, attention and thoughtfulness which she had never seen in any of the students who so frequently upset the harmony of her library.  
Despite her initial shock at having discovered what appeared to be a 300lb sack made of reddish-brown hair transfixed by a copy of Hogwarts, a History, Irma Pince found herself relaxed by the orangutan’s presence. She watched him, fascinated, as the ape worked his way through book after book, carefully climbing the shelves to retrieve the higher volumes and systematically placing those manuscripts he had finished with back in their original positions. She even thought she saw him rearrange Cornelio’s Compendium of Charms into the much debated order by potency rather than chronologically, something she had considered doing on more than one occasion. Finally, she picked up her sign-out record and began the morning’s work, checking which books had been returned and preparing Howlers for any students who were overdue, deciding to leave the visitor to his own devices allowing him to continue his examination of the Hogwart’s library... provided he didn’t chew any of the books or shed too much hair over the recently cleaned floor.

The castle was beginning to wake up, an interesting phrase by which is meant the staff and students of Hogwarts were getting out of their pyjamas, into their robes and heading to the great hall to start the day with a hearty breakfast. What is not meant is that the building itself was stirring, becoming aware of the unfamiliar magic fizzling in the air. However, both of these things were in fact true.  
As the great hall started to fill up, Professor McGonagall became increasingly aware that the students were not happy about something, a fact that was solidified when one of the recently appointed prefects approached her, mumbling.  
“Morning, umm, Professor, the students aren’t happy, umm, the bacon is missing.”  
“What do you mean, “missing”, Peters?” she sighed. She’d been looking forward to a cooked breakfast.  
“You see, umm, the plates came up, and there, there are a few chewed rashers, and that’s it, Professor,” he stuttered.  
She looked across the hall. The plates did seem considerably more sparse than normal, considering only a fraction of the students and faculty had come down for breakfast so far.  
“I’ll look into it,” she said while getting up from the Head table. “Just have some sausages or something while I go and talk to the house elves.”  
“Yes Professor, and, umm.”  
“Yes, Peters?”  
“Um, the sausages looks like they’ve been tucked into as well.”  
Her eyes spied the sausage plates: a few of them seemed to have nothing but a few chewed sausage ends left. After dismissing the panicked prefect, Minerva McGonagall left the Great Hall and the disgruntled noises of the hungry students, and headed to the kitchens. She was in a bad mood and a lack of breakfast wasn’t helping; no matter what position she’d tried to sleep in, even after transfiguring into a cat she couldn’t get comfortable. Something just hadn’t felt right, like a pressure in the air, or an itch that couldn’t be scratched. Whatever it was, it had left her tired, grumpy and with a headache.  
The deputy headmistress rounded the final corner, descended some steps and muttered the password to a statue of an occamy. The stone creature stretched its wings, expanded, taking up a section of the wall larger than McGonagall herself, then swung open, revealing the vast openness of the kitchens behind it.  
The question of why breakfast was missing was answered almost instantaneously as Professor McGonagall’s eyes locked on to the face of a portly old woman who was alternating between filling her face and her pockets while house elves rushed around her desperately trying to replace the rapidly reducing plates of food before they were magically transported up to the Great Hall.  
“What exactly is going on here?” the professor boomed at the stranger, making several house elves jump.

Shortly after the severe woman had made her drop her latest sausage sandwich, which she’d got just the right amount of mustard on, too, Nanny was appreciating an impromptu tour of the castle. The woman, who had introduced herself as the Deputy Headmistress, had not been best pleased with Nanny when she hadn’t been able to explain why she was in Hogwarts, so had pointed a stick at her, shouted something like “Petrifi-tumtetum” then “Mobiliwhotsit” and now Nanny found herself unable to move and being floated through the corridors of the huge building.  
Nanny was enjoying herself; despite the magically-induced paralysis, she was impressed by the many portraits whose occupants were travelling between frames to see what was going on, and interested in the confused-looking children in robes who had begun to move around the castle: they were staring at Nanny and the severe woman who was guiding her along, but clearly too used to strange events, or perhaps wary of being on a the wrong side of a spell themselves to enquire as to what was going on.  
After being transported down several more corridors, up a few moving staircases and through a surprised looking ghost, Nanny eventually found herself staring at a stone gargoyle.  
“Pear Drops,” Professor McGonagall snapped at the gargoyle. It proceeded to move aside, revealing a spiral staircase which Nanny soon found herself being floated up.  
At the top was a large office full of books, fascinating objects, more moving portraits and most obviously, a lot of people.  
“Headmaster!” the professor exclaimed, clearly taken aback by the assembly in front of her. “I found this trespasser in the kitchens, but I see that she isn’t the only surprise guest we have!”  
“Nanny Ogg, isn’t it?!” bellowed the large man Minerva didn’t recognise. “Is…um, Esme with you?” He blushed.  
“I believe you’ll find Mistress Weatherwax is over by the fire,” the slim gentleman in black stated calmly, causing the whole room to gawp at the seemingly empty corner, only to see Granny Weatherwax step forward.  
“Mustrum,” she acknowledged the arch-chancellor curtly, before turning her attention to Nanny. “Stop hanging about, Gytha.” She put her hand on her floating friend’s shoulder, and Nanny noticed her captor shudder and recoil as the spells were broken: McGonagall’s face betrayed a jolt of surprise and - was that fear?  
Nanny managed to steady herself; she dropped to the ground and looked up smiling around the room.  
“Wotcher, everyone!” she grinned.  
“Would you mind telling me what is going on here, Albus?!” Professor McGonagall sighed exasperatedly at the Headmaster. Nanny noticed she was shooting the occasional sharp glance at Granny Weatherwax.  
Dumbledore’s gaze flickered towards the patrician before he turned his attention to his Deputy Headmistress. He spoke in a calm, quiet voice. “It seems, Minerva, that the magical worlds have collided. What we don’t know yet is why, and what dangers this could impose. It is up to us, with the help of our visitors here, to find out.”

“So let me get this straight.” Commander Vimes leaned in, pinching the top of his nose and rubbing his eyes in exasperation. “You’re saying you saw my officer appear out of nowhere, wearing a jumper, some hats and several pairs of socks -”  
“At least six socks.” Mr Fudgity squeaked.  
“- at least six,” Vimes echoed, “- knock over a display of ornamental soaps shaped like geese -”  
“Swans, sir.”  
“- swans,” he repeated, “- smash into several shelves of soap dishes, then run out of your shop and off down the street without paying for damages.”  
“Err, yes.” Mr Fudgity shifted anxiously under the Commander’s gaze.  
“And you’re sure it was my corporal?” the Commander said, standing up and moving towards his office door.  
“Looked like him, but well, maybe a bit shorter than normal,” Mr Fudgity said, turning in his seat to face Vimes while bobbing up and down in a manner not unlike that of a carousel horse, unsure of whether he was being ushered out of the office.  
Vimes opened the door and leaned out. “Corporal Nobbs,” he called. “A word in my office, NOW”.  
A few moments later a man (for want of a better word) sidled in passed Sam Vimes, with the face of innocence reserved only for the extremely guilty.  
“Yes, Commander Vimes,” Nobby saluted, hitting himself in the forehead and dislodging a tattered half of a cigarette, which he hastily picked up and placed back behind his ear.  
“This is Sequencious Fudgity.” Vimes gestured to the man in the chair who was still making up his mind as to whether or not he was expected to be standing up or not. “He runs the soap shop on Widdershins Broadway.”  
“Mm-hmm,” Sequencious nodded mid-bob before deciding to stay seated.  
“I didn’t do nuffin!” Nobby spluttered turning to his commander.  
“And what didn’t you do Nobby?” Vimes enquired giving Corporal Nobbs a cool stare, causing his subordinate to squirm.  
“Whatever it is this nob says I did, I never been in no soap shop!”  
“That, I can believe.” Mr Fudgity coughed.  
“You’re still sure this is your man?” Vimes said, moving his gaze from his officer to the complainant.  
“Umm, does he have a little brother?” Mr Fudgity asked, eying Nobby up and down. “With bigger ears?”  
“Our Errol ain’t done nuffin either!” Nobby exclaimed. “- sir,” he added, after seeing the stony look on Commander Vimes’ face.  
“Errol Nobbs is considerably taller than the Corporal here, Mr Fudgity,” stated Vimes, turning to face his visitor. “As for his other features, it is nose that draws attention, so unless you wish to revise your statement, I think we can both agree that it is neither my officer nor his brother that we are looking for in this case”.  
Sequencious stood, hesitated, and then nodded to the Commander. “Well, thank you for your time. I hope Sybill enjoyed our rose bath salts. Your wife is always welcome at Sumptuous Soaps...”  
The sentence hung in a way that made it clear that some other people may not be so welcome in his shop. His eyes flickered again towards Corporal Nobbs who was casually picking his nose.  
“She did,” Vimes assured him. “We’ll find out who - or what - it was that damaged your property, Mr Fudgity. I just need a word with Corporal Nobbs, if you’re able to see yourself out.”  
The soap purveyor exited the office, leaving only a hint-of-lilac scent behind him, which was quickly overridden by the more-than-a-hint-of-Nobby scent.  
“Nobby, take a seat.” Vimes ushered the corporal into the vacant chair.  
“I didn’t do it Sa... sir, I swear, I never even been in that poncy shop.”  
“I don’t doubt that, Nobby”, Vimes said sincerely. “But somebody smashed the place up and I want you to find out who it was.”  
“Me, sir? I thort Angua normally does stuff like this?”  
“Carrot’s looking for her, besides, she can’t stand being near that shop, all those perfumed smells - messes with her senses.”  
“Ah, right” nodded Nobby conspiratorially. “Cos of being a werewolf, innit.” He tapped his nose knowingly, though the only thing Nobby’s nose knew was the colour of his fingernails. “Don’t worry Commander, I’ll get to the bottom of whose besmirching my good name, they’ll never smirch again, that’s for sure!”  
Vimes eyed the corporal. He appeared to be hesitating about something; he had the look of a man unsure whether to tell a stranger their flies were undone. Eventually he settled whatever momentary struggle was going on and asked, “You don’t have a 3 foot relative with big ears, do you, Nobby?”  
“Nossir! I swear, this wasn’t a Nobbs, we have some standards.”  
“Sorry, Nobby,” Vimes sighed, getting up to open the door again. “Had to ask.”  
“Nossir,” Nobby continued, making a move to leave the office. “Why smash up a place and not take anything? That’s not the Nobbs way at all!”  
“Get out, Nobby.”  
“Yessir!”  
The Corporal hastily exited the office, leaving Vimes alone. He sat back down and returned to the documents on his desk; he had a long list of strange cases coming in this morning, of people vanishing or appearing seemingly out of nowhere. He rubbed his eyes again and continued work, assigning officers to the various disappearances and strange goings-on.  
He hesitated over one of the names: Angua. This wasn’t the first time she’d run off, but that was different - that was family.  
“Where is she?” he muttered, circling her name and surrounding it with question marks. She could look after herself, he knew that... but something magic was going on and he didn’t like it.  
There better not be a bloody dragon this time, he thought to himself.  
It wasn’t long before his thoughts were interrupted by a knock on the door.  
“Come in,” he sighed, looking up from his pile of Missing Person reports.  
Fred Colon stumbled in. His face was red and he was breathing heavily, although this wasn’t unusual for the Sergeant, whose physique could only be described as rotund (only, that is, by someone who was avoiding using the word fat). He looked more out of breath than normal; he also looked scared.  
“What is it, Fred? What did they say?”  
“They said it wasn’t them sir, the wizards,” he wheezed. “I went to the university, like you asked, I tried to see the Archchancellor.”  
“And?”  
Sergeant Colon struggled to get his breath back. “He’s gone!”  
“Gone how?”  
“Missing like the others, Sam, and well… that’s not the worst of it.”  
“What else, Fred?” pressed the Commander, wondering what could be worse than the head of magic in the city vanishing during a magical emergency.  
“The palace, sir, I stopped in to drop off that update to the Patrician.”  
“Yes?” Sam could feel the sentence coming before it left the sergeant’s mouth, the thing worse than the head of magic vanishing. Vimes didn’t much like the Patrician, but his dictatorship had created stability in the city; without the Patrician, the Guilds would be in chaos.  
“He’s gone hasn’t he, Fred.”  
“Vetinari’s vanished.”

The universe is infinite. No matter the biggest thing you can think of, it’s bigger than that. Yes, even bigger than that too. Keep going. It is bigger than you can possibly imagine.  
It is also not alone.  
Many universes exist in the infinite dimensions; there are universes inside universes, universes behind universes and even universes before universes. It just goes on and on in a way that gets physicists excited and the rest of us queasy.  
The universes can’t meet. Dimensions can cross and alternate realities can pop into existence with the tiniest decision: whether or not you have cereal or toast in the morning could split reality down what is known as the trousers of time - meaning one of you goes for brunch and gets hit by a bus, another you stays at their desk, gets caught writing fanfiction at work, loses their job and decides to move to the countryside to rescue hedgehogs - but the universes themselves cannot touch…  
Except that they have.  
The Discworld travels on the back of four humongous elephants which in turn stand on a colossal turtle, Great A'tuin, which swims endlessly through its universe. Meanwhile the planet Earth rotates on its axis, orbiting its Sun, within a galaxy comprising 100 billion stars and countless other planets. These universes are not connected. Or at least they weren’t, until there was magic.  
It is often said that knowledge is power. Power, we know, is (force x distance) ÷ time. And books, we know, are knowledge. Therefore, books, in large enough quantities, can warp space and time. This is the theory of Library (L) Space.  
Not much is known about L-Space, and what is known is kept secret by a select few. Some librarians can use L-Space to travel from library to library, because all books exist somewhere and L-Space connects them. The Librarian of the Unseen University occasionally travelled through L-Space, and although he wouldn’t describe himself as an expert (he’d describe himself as “ook”), his understanding of how to traverse the dimensions was second to none.  
Unfortunately, The Librarian was unaware of the consequences of magical universes connecting, and as the Hogwarts library grew and became linked to the tendrils of L-Space, magic met magic, causing recoil within the universes, displacing inhabitants of each magical world and rupturing the L-Space continuum.  
As the Librarian sat in the Hogwarts Library, discovering all about this new realm that had appeared in L-Space, he had no idea that he wasn’t the only Discworld inhabitant to have come through the portal, nor was he aware of the cataclysm ahead, should the magics continue to pour into each other, combining and mutating through the L-Space gateway. 

While some of the greatest magical and Muggle minds sat in Dumbledore’s office contemplating the reason behind the combining of the universes, one of the most limited minds plodded through the streets of Ankh-Morpork seeking information.  
Nobby Nobbs had been a copper for as long as he could remember; he’d risen (not unlike damp) to the rank of corporal and stayed there. Detective work was not Nobby’s forte, he was not particularly sharp, nor in tune with the goings-on of the city like his superiors. Commander Vimes always seemed to Nobby to be in harmony with even the most minor goings-on; he could sense when the tiniest thing was off-key and always knew what to do when there was a major development. Nobby had left the watch building and was just passing the Opera house, working out how to best conduct his investigation to clear his name, when a firm hand grasped his shoulder.  
“Got you!”  
As Nobby span around he became aware of the cacophony that had been erupting from the grand structure opposite the Watch headquarters. Angry musicians stormed out of the opera house and encircled the corporal.   
“I ain’t dun nuffin!” Nobby screeched automatically as the gears in his head started turning, connecting him to his surroundings, of which there were many; in fact, he was surrounded.  
Angry musicians talked over each other, screaming and waving broken instruments at the corporal. There was even the sound of muffled anger from a man with his head stuck in the bell of a tuba. Summoned by the sound of discord, watchmen, -women and -dwarves (it’s rude to ask which of the former they come under - and best not to use the word “under” near a dwarf at all) rushed from the watch building and attempted to calm the audacious crowd.   
Nobby was greatly relieved to see Commander Vimes coming towards him, until he saw his face. Nobby didn’t know the word “incandescent”, so the words he thought best described the way Vimes’ rage palpably emanated around him, causing the crowd to disperse and a path to the corporal open up were: Bloody hell, he looks pissed off!   
“Corporal Nobbs,” Vimes addressed him with a calm rage, “would you mind telling me what is going on here? I was under the impression you were investigating an offence, not causing one”.  
“I didn’t sir, I swear” Nobby spluttered, holding back tears from the injustice of it all. “They just attacked me sir, I’m innocent!”  
Nobby noticed Vimes’ eyebrow raise a fraction.  
“Alright, not innocent in the general sense,” he conceded, “but I didn’t do nuffin to this lot!”  
“Commander Vimes!” boomed the austere man whose hand was clasping Nobby’s shoulder.  
“Your officer destroyed the orchestra pit of the opera house! Just now he appeared out of nowhere, terrified the percussionists and bashed the brass!”  
“Just now,” said Vimes, turning with a joyless smile to the man, “Corporal Nobbs was in my office.”  
“It was him!” squeaked a piccolo player. “He kept appearing and disappearing with this funny Crack noise!”  
“Yeah,” a cellist chimed in. “With those big weird ears of his!”  
Nobby was running his hands over his ears and staring up at the Commander, mumbling, “I didn’t, it wasn’t,” when a loud Crack echoed around Pseudopolis Yard.  
A creature appeared in thin air. It was wearing an oversized maroon jumper with the letter “R” on it, multiple odd socks and at least three hats. It hovered in mid air, looking terrified. With more loud cracks it disappeared and reappeared several more times all around the yard, seeming to get more and more anxious with each materialisation.   
CRACK -  
The creature appeared directly in front of Nobby, their eyes locked on to each other, and Nobby saw the creature’s face twist into an expression of recognition and confusion.  
“Elf?” he heard it squeak.  
“Wot?” Nobby began to say, before finding himself knocked back by the crowd. Hands pushed and grabbed, voices swore and shouted.  
“Grab him!”  
“That’s it!”  
“You broke my triangle!”  
CRACK -  
The creature vanished again, and this time it did not come back.  
It took awhile for the chaos to subside. The crowded orchestra and stage hands began to pick up their broken instruments and clear the yard, escorted by officers who were busying themselves by taking statements. Nobby eventually found himself alone, save for Commander Vimes who stood staring at the spot where the creature had last been.  
Eventually, Vimes turned back to Nobby, helping pull him up off the ground where he had been shoved in the furore. They stood silently for a second before the commander asked the question that had also been bouncing around the corporal's head all morning.  
“WHAT THE BLOODY HELL IS GOING ON?!”

What the blooming heck is going on? Sybill Trelawney found herself thinking, looking around at a room that was definitely not her bedchamber, she’d only remembered having had one sherry last night or was it two? The Divination professor heard a faint scratching noise coming from behind one of the large wooden contraptions that seemed to fill the space. Was this a workshop?   
“Hello?” she whispered, in the stupid way people do when they don’t want to be heard despite trying to grab attention. “Ummm, I say, hello?”   
She stepped around the devices, careful not to stand on any of the pieces of paper that littered the floor. The source of the scratching noise was revealed; sitting at a desk and gazing out of the window was a balding man, who was scribbling away with a quill and seemed not to have noticed her whispered introduction.   
Professor Trelawney hesitated. The stars and tea leaves of late had shown her that she would be educating young minds in the Divination tower (and the lesson timetable Professor McGonagall had sent the teaching staff substantiated this). There had been nothing in the crystal ball to indicate she would find herself in a strange man’s workroom.  
She realised that she wasn’t holding her wand. Feeling exposed, she began rummaging in her pockets. With much relief, her hand clutched around her hazel and unicorn wand, but as she pulled it from her robes, cards and sticks were dislodged from her pocket, clattering over the floor.  
Roused by the jangled sounds made by Professor Trelawney’s many bracelets as she desperately picked up her tarot cards and Xylomancy twigs, the man in the chair turned around. Sybill felt his gaze as their eyes locked; his pupils widened, his mouth opened as a look of surprise and excitement spread over his kind face. She felt a blush that seemed to start at her knees, making her wobble as it rushed up her legs, eventually making its way to her face. The man moved towards her, his gaze never leaving her eyes. Her wand arm trembled as the man reached up to her face, and she saw the tarot card she had picked up: the Lovers. She flushed crimson, her lower lip quavering.  
Suddenly she felt her glasses whisked off her face.  
“Fascinating!” the man exclaimed. “What material are the frames of these spectacles made from? And the lenses are so clear! The workmanship is astonishing!”  
He turned away, taking her glasses with him, and sat back at his workbench, holding the lenses up to the light and scribbling notes about the refraction.  
“Fffbbbtt,” Sybill blurted, blinking rapidly due to the sudden lack of focus, and swaying slightly as she regained her balance. Pointing her wand at the blur that she believed to be the spectacles pilferer, she summoned all the authority she could muster and declared, “I am Sybill Trelawney, great-great-granddaughter of seer Cassandra Trelawney, and Divination professor at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, and I order you to give me back my glasses, and to tell me who you are and what on Earth I am doing here!”  
The fuzzy blob stood up again and moved towards her. He placed her glasses on her nose. Sybill felt the blush begin again as his penetrating grey eyes came back into focus.  
“Leonard of Quirm,” he stated. “But you know that of course; if you’re here, then you know why you’re here, else why would you be here? ...Why are you here?”  
“I- I- I don’t know,” Sybill blurted out. “There was nothing in the tea leaves about this.” She started to cry. “I am a fortune teller, I am descended from a great Seer and now I don’t even know where I am...”  
Tears streamed down her face as she blubbered. Leonard looked nervous, and hastily snatched some crumpled up paper from the floor and passed it to her. She blew her nose with a resounding honk then noticed the pencil scribblings of a discarded design on the paper Leonard had provided.  
“What’s this?” she sniffled.  
“Oh, that’s my get-quickly-from-one-place-to-another-without-horses machine. Of course, you would need hundreds of rodents instead so I decided against it as an idea,” Leonard sighed.  
“So it’s like a car?” Sybill queried.  
“Car?” Leonard stared at her, intrigued.  
“Umm, they’re a Muggle device... I don’t really know much about them, I’m afraid...”  
“Muggle?”  
“Non-magic… oh - you’re not - I mean - you don’t know about magic?” The professor found herself panicking: had she just broken the International Statute of Wizarding Secrecy? She never went further than Hogsmeade and so had never considered what she’d do if she found herself with Muggles. “I, err…” - She trailed off.  
“Oh, magic!” Leonard said. “Yes, I know a bit about that, they train them at that University. Never been that interested in it myself, it seems to take the fun out of making things and doesn’t seem that reliable if you ask me. Tell me more about these muggles and their devices”  
“A magic university!” Trelawny exclaimed, snapping out of her melancholy. “They’ll know how I can get back to Hogwarts! You know how to get there?”  
“Of course, it’s just past the Plaza of Broken Moons; you can see the tower from my window.” He gestured at the open window he’d been staring through when Sybil had arrived.  
She dashed forward and looked out. It took her no more than a fraction of a second to spot the humongous tower, looming over the city. She could feel the magic altering the fabric of reality around it.  
“Yes! How do I get there?” Relief washed over her as she sensed magic in the air: she’d finally get some answers as to where she was and how she could get home.  
“Oh, you can’t,” stated Leonard matter-of-factly. “Vetinari changed the sequence so I have no idea how to get out any more.” He shrugged, nodding at the large door at the far end of the workshop.  
Sybil felt the blood drain from her face. “You’re trapped in here?”  
“Hmm? Oh, yes,” smiled Leonard. “Best place for me, he says.” A second of doubt seemed to flitter across his brow. “But then I wonder how he conducted a full analysis..?”  
“Not if I have anything to do with it!”  
Sybill Trelawney had never been a confident woman. She liked the quiet of the Divination classroom; she could spend hours staring at cup after cup of tea leaves, even if the only future she saw was a desperate dash to the ladies, but she was a proud Ravenclaw and she was going to get back to her room at Hogwarts. Even if she didn’t know where Hogwarts was right now.  
“Hold on to me, Len!” she yelled, blushing as she held his arm. She raised her wand and trilled, “We’re off to see some wizards!”  
With that, focusing on the plaza in front of the tower, she twisted, and vanished, taking Leonard with her.

Apparition is the magical method of disappearing in one place and reappearing somewhere else. However, it is not without rules. Apparition is very difficult: not every witch or wizard in the “round world” can do it, and those who can require a licence to do so. One of the key ways to make sure an apparition is successful is to focus: the witch or wizard has to focus hard on where they wish to go. A witch or wizard can Apparate across limitless distances to anywhere that is not protected with an anti-Apparition charm. A house elf can apparate anywhere, protected or not.  
What nobody can do is Apparate between universes.  
Sybill Trelawney’s lack of practice meant she was sensible enough not to try to apparate across more than few streets; for Dobby the house elf, this was a different matter. No matter how hard he focused on Hogwarts, he found himself appearing in yet more strange places, on unknown streets, in unfamiliar shops, in undisclosed location after undisclosed location. He was terrified.  
But for one brief moment he had seen something familiar: he’d seen someone who looked like an elf, a tall elf perhaps, but he’d definitely looked akin. With a new determination, Dobby set out to find the big elf, and hopefully, find out how to get home.

 

Back in Dumbledore’s office, some of the greatest minds from both universes were proving the old adage that too many cooks spoil the broth. This broth was beyond spoiled; it was inedible.  
Most of the problem was Ridcully. Ridcully was not a stupid man; a stupid man could not have become a wizard of the seventh level by the age of 27. No, the Archchancellor’s issue was that if he didn’t understand something, any attempt at theorising or educated speculation by the others caused him to drastically miss the point.  
“It seems that the walls between universes have broken down,” Dumbledore mused.  
“Anyone know a decent plasterer then?” queried Ridcully.  
“Plasterer?” A confused Professor McGonagall stared at the Archchancellor.  
“To fix up these walls.” he said proudly.  
Silence echoed around the office until it was interrupted by the embarrassed cough of one of the portraits.  
“I don’t believe that that is what the professor meant, Mustrum,” Vetinari said coolly.  
“Yes, well,” huffed Ridcully, “we don’t even know how big his staff is!”  
“We have an appropriately sized faculty,” Dumbledore smiled. He then paused pensively. “Though we're always in need of a Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher, if you're thinking of applying?”   
Ridcully blushed at the smirk on Granny’s face. He avoided looking at Nanny altogether but he was sure he heard sniggering.  
“In fact, Minerva,” Dumbledore continued, “could you please fetch the other Heads of Houses? They need to be informed of the situation.”  
“Yes, Albus.” With that, Professor McGonagall left the office.  
Vetinari calmly addressed the remaining witches and wizards. “Perhaps it would be pertinent for someone to ascertain whether anyone else has arrived from our world.”  
“And whether we’ve lost anyone!” boomed Hagrid. “I’ll go, Professor.”  
“Perhaps Mustrum would be able to assist you?” The Patrician stared pointedly at the Archchancellor.  
“Umm, yes, I - well - lovely grounds!” Ridcully spluttered as Hagrid escorted him out of the office and down the spiral staircase into the now-bustling corridors of the castle.  
“Right, where to first, my good ma- gian- man?!”  
“Firs’ things firs’,” Hagrid growled, striding briskly through the castle. “You’re going to come to class.”  
“Class? Ah, you need my assistance teaching the young… people!” The Archchancellor puffed his chest while scuttling to keep up with Hagrid’s gigantic pace.  
“Nope!” Hagrid smiled broadly. “You need to learn a thing or two about magical creatures.”   
They stepped out of the castle and headed towards the forest. Ridcully started to protest, but the look in Hagrid’s eye made him stop. Besides, Mustrum thought, a morning stroll across the grounds is good exercise to start the day. He was also curious at the giant’s determination regarding care for these creatures. Perhaps he could learn a thing or two? He chuckled to himself. Esme might approve. His grinning face flushed slightly pink as they arrived at a paddock that was surrounded by bemused looking students.  
“Mornin’, third-years,” Hagrid greeted the assembled students. “Mister Ridcully here will be joining us for today’s lesson. Now, who can tell me what I have here?”  
Hagrid stepped into the paddock and gestured to what appeared to be an old rabbit hutch. Ridcully and the assembled students peered in and a slim, beak-like snout appeared, pushing its way through the mesh of the hutch.   
“Looks like a swamp dragon to me,” murmured Ridcully as a young wizard’s hand shot in the air.  
“Occamy, Professor.”  
“Quite right, Ford. Five points to Ravenclaw,” Hagrid grinned.  
The student continued, “Umm, sir, aren’t they a category four-X beast?”  
Ridcully noticed that Hagrid’s grin wavered a little before he answered.  
“Yyessss… but that just means you should be skilled to handle them, an’ I am.”  
Several students stepped back as Hagrid opened the hutch.  
The creature looked to Ridcully like a cross between a dragon and a parrot. Too small to be worth hunting, he mused, though he did think its plumed head would look good adorning his wall. The creature slithered out of the hutch and around Hagrid until it was on his shoulder where it quickly began shrilly honking at Hagrid’s face. The giant pulled a bag from his pocket: Ridcully read the words Honeyduke’s Cockroach Clusters. The creature excitedly began gobbling from the proffered packet.   
“So who can tell me anything about Occamies?” Hagrid smiled broadly at the nervous looking class. The student with the blue tie who had answered before raised his hand. Ridcully noticed a girl at the back of the class twitch her hand up too, but then pull it down again. Hagrid also seemed to have noticed.  
“Did you have an answer, Sally?”  
The girl stepped forward anxiously. “I don’t know the word - cronapz...something, um, they change size.”  
“RIGHT!” beamed Hagrid. “Ten points to Hufflepuff, an’ I can’t say it neither.”  
“Choranaptyxis,” the Ford boy spluttered, but nobody paid him any attention because at that moment Hagrid threw a cockroach cluster high in the air.  
The Occamy stretched to catch it - and kept stretching beyond the limit of its length. It grew, five, ten, fifteen feet. The iridescent plumage of the Occamy caught the light, causing a kaleidoscopic effect that shimmered over the assembled group. An audible gasp came from each student and Ridcully realised he had gasped as well. The beautiful creature caught the cluster in its massive mouth, before flying a sparkling lap around the paddock. Just as suddenly, it returned to its original size and to its perch on Hagrid’s shoulder.  
Ridcully stood, awestruck. He was started to realise why Hagrid wanted to show him the beast. It would make a pretty trophy, he thought, but you’d never feel the wonder.   
The class carried on, Hagrid showing the students how the Occamy could also shrink down to get the tiniest cockroach crumbs from the bottom of the pack. He talked about their diet (“insects and rats mos’ly”) and showed the class the shards of a shimmering silver egg shell. The Archchancellor could feel the enthusiasm of the group grow and their nervousness drop away as Hagrid spoke to them about the creature. He heard the words Snallygaster and Scamander, but he wasn’t listening anymore; he was thinking about the hunting “trophies” he’d collected and displayed over the years and couldn’t help feeling a slight pang of guilt.  
It was a pensive Ridcully who was roused by a student running across the grounds towards them screaming, “HAGRID!!! THERE’S A MONSTER IN THE LIBRARY!”

By the time Ridcully reached the library, following as close to Hagrid’s sprint as his lungs would allow, chaos had overcome the castle. He could hear shouts from the students, shrieks from the staff, cackles from what appeared to be a short, colourful, floating man and most notably “ook”s from an enraged orangutan.  
“Monkey wants a peanut! Monkey, monkey!” The airborne annoyance laughed while hurling nuts at the angry ape.  
“PEEVES!” Hagrid bellowed. “Leave it alone!”  
“Ooo, has Hagrid found a relative?” Peeves taunted. “Does Haggy-rid want a banana?!” laughed the poltergeist, pulling a banana and a handful of nuts from under his hat. Bells jingled as he waved the cap while hurling the foodstuffs at Hagrid.  
“Stop that!” Hagrid growled.  
While Hagrid kept the prankster otherwise occupied, Ridcully took the opportunity to careful approach the screaming Librarian. The Orangutan's eyes were bulging, his breath was sharp and rapid: clearly he had been aggravated into a rage. Despite his trepidation, Ridcully found himself impressed. He’d never seen the librarian this worked up, not even when they’d had to treat him for fleas.   
“Easy there,” Ridcully slowly walked towards the ape, feeling the occasional peanut bounce off his back as Peeves hurled them around the corridor. While most students were getting as far away from the scene as possible (while still being close enough to watch), Ridcully saw that he was not alone in trying to calm the Librarian. He could see that the archway nearest led into a grand library, and from within, a stern woman was approaching, pushing a trolley of books. “Returns” was written on the side in vivid violet letters.  
Concerned that the woman was planning on ramming the Librarian with the cart, Ridcully side-stepped between them, all the while keeping his arms outstretched to shield the ape from any stray bananas and peanuts that were still being flung with mocking shouts.  
“Monkey, monkey!” Peeves continued, causing further screams of rage and bared teeth from the Librarian.  
“It’s all right old chap… ape,” Ridcully soothed to the best of his ability, contemplating which spells he may have to use should the situation continue into violence.  
At that moment, the woman with the cart came through the library arch. She tipped the trolley over and in a most unconvincing voice exclaimed, “Oh dear. I have dropped some books. Whatever shall I do?”  
Ridcully saw the librarian’s eyes soften, his hands and glance twitching towards the fallen books that were now littering the floor. Peanuts and bananas were still raining down throughout the corridor, though Hagrid now had the assistance of some of the older students who were zapping spells at the poltergeist. The cackling was dying down as Peeves was driven further and further away from the library. Eventually, frustrated that his joke was being curtailed, Peeves let out a resounding raspberry and zoomed down the corridor like a deflating balloon, a faint yell of “mooooooooonnnnkkkkeeeeey” echoing around them as the poltergeist finally vanished.  
As the echo faded, the ape’s breathing started to return to normal. He slowly approached the books that Madam Pince had “accidentally” knocked to the floor and began putting them back on the cart. He ooked softly in apology to the severe woman. She gave him a gentle smile as he took the trolley into the library and calmly went about returning the books to their correct shelves.  
Ridcully stared at her in awe. He’d never known the Librarian to calm down so quickly without having broken something first - normally a glass, a chair or a nose. Ridcully followed the woman into the library as Hagrid thanked the students and got the stragglers to get on their way to class.  
“Thank you, Mrs -” - he hesitated.  
“Madam,” the Hogwarts librarian corrected. “Pince.Sorry about Peeves, he normally knows to leave the library alone. Is the Orangutan yours?”  
“Not exactly mine.”  
Having re-shelved the returned books, the Librarian joined them with a soft “ook” of acknowledgement to the Archchancellor as Hagrid entered the library.  
“One of yours?” Hagrid nodded towards the ape.  
“Not exactly his,” said Pince.  
“He’s our librarian,” Ridcully stated.  
“Fair enough,” Hagrid continued. “Dumbledore will want to see ‘im. Come on then.”  
Looking from Ridcully, to Madam Pince, to Hagrid, the Librarian seemed to decide to follow the giant. Before leaving the library the orang waddled over to Madam Pince and hugged her legs. She awkwardly patted his head. The ape then joined Hagrid, grabbing hold of his enormous fingers, and they left the library holding hands.  
Ridcully followed behind, somewhat bemused.

Craaa...ck… a disgusting river - cra...ck… some kind of temple - cr… pft… an alleyway. Dobby collapsed, exhausted, with each attempt to apparate to home he found himself somewhere else in this strange city. Not knowing what else to do, and desperate for some rest, Dobby took off one of his many hats and pulled it over his legs like a sleeping bag, curling up behind a cardboard box, sobbing, he tried to fall asleep.  
“Woof.”  
Dobby woke up with a start, nose to nose with a dog. Dobby knew a little about dogs, though students weren’t allowed them at Hogwarts. One of the few things Dobby knew was that dogs said “woof”. He hadn’t realised that they said it in such a sarcastic tone.  
“Hello?” Dobby said, sitting up and rubbing his eyes. “What is doggy wanting?” he asked.  
“Woof,” the dog said again, gesturing down the alley with a move of his head.  
Dobby stared as the dog started walking away.  
“Woof,” it said again, pausing to look at Dobby, and sounding a tad irritated. “Woof bloody follow woof!”  
Dobby lept up. “Sorry, doggy, sir!” And grabbing his assorted socks and hats, followed the mongrel through the alleys of Ankh Morpork.

“OOK, ook, eek, oook ook, EEEEKKKK!” the Librarian finished, gesturing wildly with his arms.  
The gathered witches and wizards stared at the panting orang. There was a pregnant pause; this one was having twins.  
“I think…” said Hagrid tentatively, “I understood some of that.”  
“Perhaps you’d be so good as to translate, then?” Professor Snape sneered, clearly uneasy in the crowded office.  
“Allow me,” Ridcully boomed, stepping forward. “The Librarian is talking about what we know as L-Space.”  
“Oook.” The orangutan nodded.  
“It’s Library-space. Stibbons says it’s created when there is a large collection of knowledge in one place, and that knowledge is power and - it - well - he says there are these doors - never seen them myself, don’t see the point in having invisible doors, might as well have an arch, or a window…” He trailed off. “Anyway, the librarian says that you’ve now got a door, so our magics are interfering with each other and it’s - well - ummm… bad.”  
“EEEEKKKK!!” the Librarian repeated.  
“Can you think of anything that may have caused this?” Dumbledore asked, innocently glancing between the assembled Heads of Houses. “To my knowledge we haven’t received any new reading material since the start of term?”  
“We did get rid of all of Lockhart’s books,” Professor Mcgonagall conjected acidly. “Perhaps that raised the knowledge level within the library.”  
“Ha! That’ll be that, then!” Hagrid roared, making the recently arrived Professor Flitwick jump.  
“Now that we have a theory,” Snape sneered, “what are we going to do about it?”  
“Isn’t it obvious?” Granny Weatherwax stepped forward, “we’re going to sort it out!”  
“And how exactly,” began Professor McGonagall, mirroring Granny’s movement, “are we going to do that?”  
“Simple, in’t it?” Nanny grinned. “We’re all going to work together!”  
McGonagall and Weatherwax’s heads snapped round to face Nanny. It was hard to tell which glare was the most venomous.  
“Wonderful!” Dumbledore beamed, his eyes twinkling. “May I humbly suggest we start in the Library. Please lead the way, Hagrid.”  
“Certainly Headmaster!” Hagrid grinned. “Follow me, Professors!”  
One by one, the unlikely cooperative filtered out of the magical office. Lastly, Vetinari rose from his chair, as he walked towards the door he calmly turned to dumbledore “Do you know what will happen if we can’t close the gateway? I myself am content in a world without magic, though I’d imagine it could cause you quite an inconvenience?”  
“Havelock, the issue would not be an absence of magic. If we fail, our worlds will become flooded with magic. I don’t believe either of us is naive enough to think that other worlds won’t also be affected. We have no idea of the ramifications following such a collision: both our worlds, and more, could be destroyed.”  
The statement hung in the air as Dumbledore escorted the Patrician from the office.  
The room fell silent, apart from gentle clicks and pings from the various instruments that adorned the Headmaster’s tower room. What had looked to be an empty corner gradually revealed a disgruntled Granny Weatherwax.  
“They have no idea,” she said incredulously, as she stepped out of the gloom, causing several portraits to gasp in surprise. “You there!” Granny snapped, addressing a portrait of a witch whose plaque read Headmistress - Professor Eupraxia Mole, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. “Tell me about creature magic.”

Dobby sat quietly, pondering what exactly it was he was eating. The largest and smelliest member of the group in which he found himself had pulled several of these sausage-inna-buns from his coat and handed them to each of the assorted vagrants. Apparently he’d been given them provided he stop following someone called Dibbler. Dobby was uncertain how something could be both chewy and crunchy.  
The group were assembled around a small fire. It had an interesting aroma; apparently the scum on the nearby river made a good source of free fuel as it was highly flammable. There was a lot of chatter happening around of it, mostly from someone called Altogether Andrews.  
“Well I don’t see see why we’re feeding it. I don’t even see why you brought it here Gaspode.”  
“Bugrit.”  
“Coff!”  
“Alright, alright, calm down,” Gaspode barked.  
“Quack.”  
“And the duck.”  
“What duck?”  
“Look, the Patrician has disappeared, the Archchancellor has disappeared, even that bloody orangutan is missing, and at the same time, this fella pops up causing havoc around the city. Coincidence? I don’t fink so! If he knows anything about where the others have gone, there may be a reward in it for us, lads!”  
“Bugrit millennium hand and shrimp.”  
“But what is it, Gaspode?” Altogether Andrews asked. At least, that’s what Dobby had been introduced to him as; right now, he was being addressed as Lady Hermione. And the one with the smell that seemed to have a mind of its own was called Ron. It was making him very homesick for his Hogwarts friends.  
The others were Coffin Henry, Arnold Sideways and Duck Man. Dobby didn’t find out if the duck had a name, and in fact he wasn’t sure if the duck man even knew he had a duck on his head. Gaspode was the dog and apparently the leader of this odd assembly.  
“Right, you,” Gaspode snapped at Dobby, causing him to jump and swallow the mysteriously textured sausage in one go. “Tell us, what are you doin’ here and where is the Patrician and the Archchancellor?”  
“Err, um, Dobby doesn’t know,” he stammered. “Dobby was shocked to find he wasn’t in bed. Dobby was about to get up and start making teas for the teachers when he suddenly wasn’t in the castle.”  
“A castle? How superior!” Andrews/Hermione sounded impressed.  
“Umm, yess, mister… missus. It’s Hogwarts, it’s a school, it’s my home...” Dobby hesitated. “Home...” he mumbled, and began sobbing. “Dobby wants to go home!”  
“Oh don’t, not… Look i’m not good at the touchy-feely stuff. I’m not a labrador.” Gaspode sounded anxious as he padded over to Dobby and patted his foot with a paw. “There there. Well, let’s look at it this way: maybe the people we’re missing are at this Hogwarts place right? So if we work together to get you home, you can help us get our missing lot so we can get the reward right?”  
Sniffing, Dobby nodded. “Please, doggy, yes please, Dobby wants to get back to Hogwarts.”  
“That’s that, then!” Gaspode’s tail wagged. “I reckon if this is all about magic, we should start at the university. Ron, you come with us.”  
“Bugrit!” Foul ole Ron stood up and followed Gaspode and Dobby down the Alley.  
“Thank yous all for helping Dobby.” The elf waved back at the company as he, Gaspode and Ron headed towards the large building that loomed ahead.

Sybil looked up at the imposing building as Leonard staggered sideways; Apparating could often leave one feeling a little discombobulated upon landing. Sybil herself could feel the lurch in her stomach, but not wanting de Quirm to think she wasn’t on top of the situation, she hid her queasiness as best she could.  
“So,” the professor began commandingly before quickly wavering back to her more usual, uncertain self. “...How do we get in?”  
“Well, um...” Leonard stood upright. “I could build a device to allow us to traverse the outer wall?”  
“I think I’ll try knocking on the gate first.” She stepped forward. “Gosh, what’s that awful smell?”  
“Bugrit!”  
“Professor!!”  
Suddenly Sybil felt small arms gripping her around her middle.  
“Dobby is so pleased to see someone from Hogwarts!”  
“Dobby, oh, umm...” Trelawney staggered back, taking in the small creature and his many socks. “You’re a Hogwarts house elf?”  
“Indeed professor! I refills your tea jars and makes sure your fires is stoked on the weekends!”  
“Oh, well, um - thank you. What are you doing here?”  
“I doesn’t know professor.” Dobby hung his head sadly. “I is being trying to get back to the castle. This doggy is helping.”  
“Woof,” Gaspode stated in a rather disgruntled tone, wrinkling his nose in disgust at the cloud of incense and essential oil smells surrounding the professor.  
“I is, I mean, I am also trying to get home. You and your, um -” - she looked down at Gaspode, then slowly up at Foul Ole Ron, her face grimacing slightly - “escorts… can, um, join us if you like.”  
“We ain’t sharing the reward with you, though.”  
“Pardon?” Sybil looked from the beggar to the mongrel, uncertain who had spoken.  
“Woof.”  
The group faced the University once more and headed towards the large gate, the magic fizzing in the air making Professor Trelawney's already wild hair stand even more on end.  
She turned to ask something of the house elf just in time to see a scrawny man with a cigarette butt hanging from his mouth clasp hold of Dobby’s arm.  
“You’re nicked!” he shouted triumphantly.  
“Locomotor Mortis!” Sybil screamed, pointing it at the interloper. His legs snapped together, the momentum throwing him off balance, and he slammed backwards onto the cobblestones, his helmet clattering away down the street.  
“Owwww!” the stranger whined. “Oi, wot you do to my legs? I could nick you for that, obstruction of a wotsit, officer of the law!”

Time was running out. Not all of time, which is impossible, but specifically the period between the world continuing to exist and, via a really, really big magical explosion, not.  
Granny Weatherwax strode deep into the forbidden forest. Eyes watched her from the shadows. Granny could feel their minds, unlike any she had touched before; she felt the resentment and anger like a hot knife stabbing her in the temples. Still she marched on. Eventually, the branches thinned and she stepped out into a clearing, dimly lit by the few rays of light which had fought their way through the twisting canopy overhead.  
“Alright,” she called out. “I know you’re there and I know you know what’s going on.”  
Silence pulsated through the forest, the dense thicket seemed to absorb all sound, leaving a heavy emptiness in the air. Combined with the rage she could feel from the minds of the unseen inhabitants, the pressure on her ears was making Granny feel uneasy. Granny didn’t like the feeling, so turned it into an anger of her own.  
“If you’re not going to help me, FINE, but this isn’t about me, it’s about this world, and unless I’m mistaken, you bloody live here too, so you know what’s going on and you know it’s going to take all of us to sort it out.” She turned around and stormed out of the clearing, back into the thick overgrowth of the forest.  
She felt the rage around her subside. It hadn’t gone, but there was uncertainty mixed in with it and a cold twinge of fear. Granny smiled to herself as she felt that fear. Good, she thought. It serves them right.

The Tower of Art loomed above as Professor Trelawney, Leonard of Quirm, Foul Ole Ron and Gaspode headed into the Unseen University. Dobby followed behind, levitating an immobilized Nobby Nobbs.  
“Dobby is sorry, mister Nobby, sir.”  
“Dobby bloody well will be in a minute!” Nobby protested. “Lemme go!”  
“What are you all doing here?” A bespectacled young man holding a large pile of books stepped out in front of the assorted outsiders. He was wearing a pointy hat and robes, and had a harrassed look, much like that of a shop worker on Christmas Eve being confronted with their most irrational customer two minutes before their shift is due to end.  
“Are you a wizard?” Sybil demanded, rushing towards the man. “We need to talk to the wizard in charge here.”  
“You can’t,” the young man snapped. “He’s not here. Look, I have rather a lot to be getting on with. It took me over an hour to find these books as the Librarian seems to have gone AWOL and we have a situation. I’m sorry, but you’ll have to come back another ti… is that Corporal Nobbs?”  
“Get the watch! These loonies attacked me!” Nobby screamed.  
“I think you’ll find you attacked us!” Sybill retorted before turning back to the confused looking bibliophile. “I am professor Sybill Trelawney, witch and professor of Divination at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.”  
“Ponder Stibbons,” the young wizard replied, “Head of Inadvisably Applied Magic, The Unseen Univ- ...here.” Then, “Hogwarts?” he spluttered, clearly becoming overwhelmed with the situation. “Wait, are you Leonard of Quirm?” He gasped, dropping the books and rushing towards Leonard, who was casually examining the various magical instruments and displays that adorned the walls of the university foyer. “I’m a huge fan! Your Engine for the Neutralising of Information by the Generation of Miasmic Alphabets was the main subject for my thesis and the reason I became a Reader in Non-Volatile Intelligence!”  
He rambled on, lost in his excitement to meet the inventor of such machines as the Going-Under-The-Water-Safely Device. His excitement was promptly ended, though, by a very loud “OI!” from the still floating Corporal Nobbs.  
“Are you gonna help me or wot?!”  
“Right, umm, yes.” Ponder adjusted his robes and headed back to the carelessly discarded pile of books and began picking them up. “Yes, I think you should release the poor corporal and explain to me exactly what is going on and who -” - his eyes fell on Dobby - “and what, you are?”

The Hogwarts library thrummed. Magic gushed through L-Space, sparking and altering the fabric of the universes (currently a pretty sort of linen). Dumbledore gently passed his wand through the air, seeking the point at which the magics were strongest.  
“Hmm.”  
“Hmm?” Ridcully echoed.  
“Hmm,” Dumbledore concluded. “It seems that in order to close this magical rift, we will need to combine our magics together.”  
“Well we need to get back across first, surely?!” Ridcully spluttered. “If we’re closing this, wotsit, raft.”  
“Rift,” Mcgonagall sniffed. “Quite so. I suggest an alteration on Homenum Revelio, Albus, to only identify those from the other world.”  
“I say, where’s Esme?” Ridcully asked, looking around hurriedly.  
Nanny grinned. “Oh she’ll turn up, best not worry about her.”  
“We should establish communications with the other side,” Vetinari stated cooly. “We can’t know for sure whether any of your people have ended up in our world.”  
“Agreed,” Dumbledore nodded. “Minerva, work with Mustrum. He’ll need an equivalent revelation spell to find anyone from our side. Hagrid, please can you round up all the prefects and make sure we have a full student body. I will check the faculty.”  
“Are we sure this anomaly is only affecting the castle?” Snape smiled mirthlessly.  
“Well considered, Severus. Please head to Hogsmeade and explain the situation to Rosmerta. She knows everyone in the village.”  
“I wasn’t suggesting I… surely you’ll need...?” Snape stammered, his icy exterior shattering at the thought of running errands.  
“Don’t worry, Severus, we can’t start until we know for sure that nobody is in the wrong universe. You won’t miss the excitement.”  
“Very well, Headmaster,” the potions teacher sneered before exiting the library, his long black robes sweeping dramatically behind him.  
McGonagall rolled her eyes before escorting Ridcully to her office to work on the spell.  
“If you’d be so kind,” - Vetinari turned to the librarian - “could you please escort me back to Ankh Morpork? I have been away long enough.”  
“Ook.” The orang offered his hand to the Patrician.  
“Thank you for your hospitality, Albus.” Vetinari turned to the headmaster. “This has been a truly... educational experience.”  
“Likewise, Havelock,” Dumbledore smiled. “Were circumstances different I would love to have visited your world. It sounds fascinating.”  
Vetinari’s smile didn’t reach his eyes as he shook the headmaster’s hand. He stepped towards the waiting Librarian, before adding, “Albus, if circumstances were different, I’m not sure I’d let you anywhere near my world.”  
Dumbledore’s eyes twinkled as he watched the Patrician and Librarian step into the gap between the worlds, their images twisting and distorting before finally vanishing from Hogwarts. He chuckled as he headed to the staff room, where the remaining faculty members had been summoned.

Ponder pondered. He spent his life on a continual quest for knowledge; he always felt the pull towards information, towards the clues to how the world works, which is quite tough when you live on the back of a disc, on top of four elephants on top of a humongous turtle. Questions, more often than answers, filled his head. Now he was learning that there was another world out there, one that wasn’t on a menagerie swimming through space, and he was entranced. It was just a shame that his world knowledge was coming from someone whose mind was in the stars.  
“So your planet is a sphere? In orbit around a star? Fascinating! I always thought that a large enough mass could theoretically cause a gravity pull allowing a planet to have an atmosphere! And orbiting a star - genius! You must be on an axis then to allow the changing of seasons?”  
“Um, yes... and the rulers of the Triplicities - the signs - cause different elemental rulerships.” Sybill trailed off. She was far more used to teaching the mysterious; she didn’t have much understanding of how things actually worked. She wondered perhaps if she should have focused more on the matters of earth rather than those of the celestial objects above. Like weather: she knew rain was associated with Aquarius - she didn’t know how it actually worked.  
Meanwhile, Nobby and Dobby were busy trying to get to the bottom of their striking similarity. Having been released, Nobby was now sitting on the stone floor of the university, on the understanding he wouldn’t run for it or cause any trouble.  
“Is you an elf then, sir?” Dobby asked, poking Nobby’s nose and walking around him, inspecting his large ears.  
“No! I’m human! Got a certifikit that confirms it and everyfing! Is that wot you are? Elf? Oi, stop that!” Nobby swatted at Dobby’s fingers, stopping them from investigating his ears too deeply.  
“Yessir,” skipped an enthusiastic Dobby. “I is a house-elf! Dobby is confused though, sir. Although you are big, you’se looks like an elf too! Maybe you are a cousin to the elfs!”  
“Perhaps our worlds have collided before,” mused Leonard as he drifted over. “That would explain some of the interesting correlations.”  
Dobby and Nobby looked at each other again thoughtfully, Nobby feeling the tips of his ears, Dobby poking his own nose.  
“Could Dobby really…?” Dobby started.  
“...be like me?” Nobby finished, his hand feeling the deepest recesses of his pocket and wrapping around the certificate he carried to prove he was a human. He thought of all the times he’d felt left out and strange, all the times people had hesitated before referring to him as a person. Nobby looked into the glistening, big eyes of the house elf.  
“BRUVVA!” Nobby cried, flinging his arms around Dobby, sobbing. Dobby had leapt at Nobby at the same moment, arms wrapping around him in a tight embrace.  
Distracted by the noise, Ponder stared, his mouth opening and closing, uncertain what had just happened.  
“Just a theory,” mumbled a bemused Leonard, joining Stibbons and Trelawney. “What do you think, Havelock?” he said, turning to the patrician.  
Ponder shrieked and jumped backwards.  
“EEEK!” screamed the librarian, having had his feet trampled.  
“AAGH!” replied Ponder, getting off the orangutan's feet.  
“Indeed.” said Vetinari calmly. “Leonard, what a pleasure to see you out and about.” The sentence hung in the air, heavy and loaded, like a cannon. “Would you kindly introduce me to your friend?”  
“Oh, yes.” Leonard blushed. “This is Sybill.”  
“Professor Sybill Trelawney,” Sybill said, her mouth running on automatic as her brain tried to catch up with the chaos around her. “Divination professor at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.”  
“Great-great-granddaughter of esteemed seer Cassandra Trelawney. Dumbledore mentioned you.” Vetinari smiled. “And is that your house elf that is embracing one of our officers?”  
“Errr...” Sybill was taken aback. “No - I mean - he works at the castle, so yes… sort of...”  
“Yes, we must get you back to Hogwarts. Do you know if any other people from your world have found themselves in my city at all? As a seer it would be most useful if you could… see?”  
“Ummm… I don’t think… I - err...”  
Sybill rummaged in her robes, and Leonard saw the now familiar tarot cards cascade to the floor. The Emperor and the Fool gazed up at him. She pulled a crystal ball from her robes and began chanting, gazing into the smokey sphere.  
“Nooooo,” she said tentatively. “I only see the two of us.”  
“Me too,” joined in Ponder helpfully.  
Vetinari raised an eyebrow towards the wizard. “Quite. In that case we should head to the library. I’m sure Professor Trelawney is more than anxious to head home.”  
The magical rift between worlds sparked and spiralled, now so full of magic that the vortex could be seen from either side. The libraries of the Unseen University and the School of Witchcraft and Wizardry were practically touching. Time was nearly up. The Librarian gently pulled the Professor through L-Space, the house elf sitting on his shoulders.  
He’d never made so many trips through L-Space is one day. it seemed to be getting more and more difficult. What had felt like walking through custard now felt like walking through treacle. He worried what it would be like when they got to the cake. Gradually, they pushed through the vortex. He heard Sybill sniff: despite her keenness to return to Hogwarts, at the final moment she was loathe to leave. She’d kept glancing at Leonard expectantly as they were preparing to depart, but Ponder and Vetinari had kept him distracted.  
Dobby had also had some trepidation: he’d said goodbye to Nobby, but when he’d gone to say his goodbyes to Gaspode and Ron they were nowhere to be found. He wondered when they’d left. It must have been when the serious man arrived, he thought. He hoped they’d get whatever reward they were after, they had helped him after all.  
Finally, they arrived in the Hogwarts library. The Librarian collapsed at the change in magical pressure as they stepped out of the rift. Madam Pince rushed forwards to help him.  
“ALBUS!“ cried Trelawney, falling forward, catching her breath.  
“PROFESSOR DUMBLEDORE!” cried Dobby, landing at the headmaster’s feet.  
“Welcome back, Sybill, Dobby,” the headmaster smiled, helping them up. “Irma, could you kindly escort Sybil, Dobby and our guest to the hospital wing? It seems their journey has had rather an exhausting effect.”  
“I’ll go with ‘em,” said Nanny, helping Madam Pince get the Librarian to his feet. “We can’t leave without this chap showing us the way, and he’s in no state to go anywhere right now.”

Countless branches and undergrowth crunched under Granny’s feet on her long trek back through the pitch black forest. Finally, she could see the castle in the distance. Without turning around, she called behind her:  
“You know where you’re needed. I’ve got an errand to run first.”  
Hoofbeats thudded past her as the centaurs galloped towards Hogwarts’ grand main entrance. Mistress Weatherwax watched them run as she strode on up the hill and round to the back of the castle, to the kitchens.

In the hospital wing, Madam Pomfrey was busy being annoyed by Nanny Ogg.  
“What’s this one do then?”  
“PUT THAT DOWN!”  
“Offt strong stuff this!”  
Madam Pomfrey snatched the bottle of Skele-gro from Nanny’s hand.  
“What about this one?”  
“WILL YOU STOP SWIGGING ALL THE MEDICINES?!” the matron shrilled, swiping yet more bottles out of Nanny’s grasp with a flick of her wand, then sealing them away in a nearby cabinet. She took a deep breath and turned slowly back to Nanny, who had started fiddling with a nearby tray of instruments.  
“Professor Dumbledore has requested I take care of this -” - she gestured over a bed containing the collapsed Librarian - “...patient. And to do that I need to know more about what has happened, so please, can you take a seat and STOP TOUCHING THINGS!”  
Madam Pince approached her. “Umm, Poppy, is he going to be alright?”  
“I will do my best to make sure of it, Irma. Now could you please tell me what caused his collapse? I have given Sybil and the elf the Draft of Peace, so they’re comfortably sleeping off today’s events, but the orangutan is a mystery to me. It’s almost like a kind of Portkey-sickness, but the relevant charms aren’t working.”  
Madam Pince began explaining to the matron the events that had been taking place in the library, the rift in space, the arrival of the strange visitors and reappearances. Meanwhile, Nanny approached the discombobulated simian.  
“Nothing from this world will sort you out better than a drop of this. It’ll put hair on your chest... not that you need it.” She undid the lid of a flask and tipped a rather large glug of whatever was inside into the orang’s mouth. “It’s good for you, made from apples… well, mostly apples.”  
Although they were aware of the phrase “going ape”, Madams Pomfrey and Pince were not prepared for the eruption that occured from the far end of the hospital wing. The scumble hit the Librarian’s system, much like being hit by a truck full of apples (well, mostly apples), and he leapt out of the bed and screamed his way along the hospital wing, the flagstones smoking in his wake.  
“EEEEEEEEEEEEKKKKKKKKKK!!!”  
BANG -  
The Librarian careered uncontrollably into the potions cabinet. Glass bottles rained down, smashing on the hard stone floor of the hospital, splattering the Librarian as he lay collapsed, red-eyed, rubbing his head.  
With each falling potion, the Librarian suffered a new magical malady. SMASH - he sprouted wings. SMASH - his leg disappeared, SMASH - Madam Pince blushed as an irate naked man appeared in the spot where the Librarian had just been lying. SMASH - the Librarian reappeared, now a violent shade of purple.  
The Hogwarts witches lept into action, cleaning up the potions and reversing the damage. Madam Pomfrey careful examined the orangutan: other than a few lavender patches of fur, he seemed unscathed by the medicines. Mostly, he seemed hungover.  
“Cor, what a palaver,” grinned Nanny Ogg as a scowling Madam Pomfrey assisted Madam Pince in getting the orang back to his feet.

On both sides of the vortex, witches and wizards stood ready to cast their spells (well, on one side, witches and wizards; the other side was the Unseen University, where they had funny ideas about women, which is why they avoided them, especially at parties). Magical barriers had been erected on both sides to ensure nobody else would be flung through the gap in space unexpectedly.  
“Wotcher,” said Nanny, waving at Ridcully as she re-entered the library.  
“I say,” said Ridcully, noticing the red-eyed, purple-splotched Librarian. “Are you alright, old chap?”  
“He’ll be alright. He’s just had a drop too much scumble. C’mon.” Nanny took the orang’s hand and started towards the magical rift. It looked bigger and more foreboding. A violent spark shot out, causing a wall torch to explode into a shower of frogs.  
“What was tha’?” Hagrid jumped, scooping up the terrified amphibians and placing them into the dampest pocket of his cavernous coat.  
“Octarine flare,” breathed Ridcully.  
“Octarine?” repeated Dumbledore. “I’m not aware of the term.”  
“Surely you know octarine? It’s pure magic, the colour of magic.”  
“That sort of purplish green?” Hagrid pointed to the centre of the spiralling vortex: more flares were shooting through, cracking the library walls and turning one of the bookshelves into a speedboat.  
“If pure magic is coming through, then the worlds are almost touching. We don’t have much time.” Dumbledore shot more protective barriers around the library, trying to enclose the cataclysm. The room was surrounded by an opaque dome of magic: like silver it shimmered around them.  
“We best be heading back to our side,” Nanny said coolly. A rare look of concern washed over her face.  
“What about Esme?”  
“Oh she’ll be here in a minute, she’ll want to make an entrance”   
Dumbledore nodded at the witch. “We can start the spells while you are still on this side, but that won’t allow much time before the vortices collapse.”  
“Do it.” Nanny nodded at the headmaster, while his faculty gathered behind him, wands at the ready.  
“Will your man -”  
“Ook!”  
“- sorry, ape - be able to come back for Mistress Weatherwax?” McGonagall looked nervous as more sparks exploded around her.  
“We won’t know until we get a move on. C’mon, you ol’ baggage!” Nanny grabbed a fumbling Ridcully, and marched him and the Librarian towards the rift. “Send my thanks to Falry for all them sausages!” Nanny grinned at Professor McGonagall as she prepared to step into the swirling vortex.  
Ridcully caught Hagrid’s eye. “Thank you for showing me... well, you know.” He paused as the image of the glistening occamy steamed through his memory. He wasn’t sure how to put it, but settled on: “That was a good lesson.”  
The Librarian nodded towards Madam Pince. He ooked softly in her direction before pulling the witch and wizard into L-Space and towards home.  
“We had best begin,” Dumbledore said to the awaiting teachers. They raised their wands and began chanting the spell McGonagall and Ridcully had prepared.  
The intensity of the flares increased; magic exploded around the chanting witches and wizards. The cacophony in the library increased as the teachers shouted over the blasts.  
“It’s not working, Albus!” McGonagall yelled over the noise of the rift. “We’re giving it all the magic we have!”  
“All that YOU have, maybe,” a voice said sniffily, from behind the assembled spell-casters.  
Professor McGonagall whirled round to find herself face-to-face with Granny Weatherwax.  
“How did you?” she spluttered.  
“When you put up all these barriers to stop the magic getting out, did you stop and think about what you were stopping getting in?”  
Minerva puffed herself up aggressively. “We were protecting the students!”  
And shutting out those who can help!” Granny reared back. “Do you really think yours is the only magic that matters?”  
The staff glanced to each other between chanting, clearly confused what Granny meant.  
“Of course,” chuckled Dumbledore, lowering his wand. “Quite right, Mistress Weatherwax, quite right.” He stepped towards the silver barrier and began chanting again, a different chant, removing the solid wall of protection. “Minerva, would you kindly summon the house-elves.”  
He waved his wand once more and the last of the blockade vanished.  
Several centaurs marched into the library.  
“What on earth?” Professor McGonagall began.  
“Minerva, please.” The look Dumbledore gave Professor McGonagall at that moment obviously convinced her there was no time for questions: she began summoning elves immediately as the Headmaster greeted their newest surprise guests.  
“Magorian.” Dumbledore nodded to the leading centaur. “Welcome.”  
“We are not here for you, wizard,” the centaur spat. “We know what will happen if this hole is not sealed. Let us end this.”  
The centaurs began casting their own sealing magic towards the swirling vortex, magic sparking through the air.  
Around, Professor McGonagall, house elves were popping into view, trembling at the sight of the rift, and desperately attempting to tidy the mess it was causing.  
“No, no, no, there’s no time for that,” Granny shouted through the confusion. “Come ‘ere.”  
The elves gathered warily around the witches.  
“Right,” Granny sighed. “Now I gots to go, so Minerva here is going to help you. Magic from both our worlds made this thing, so all the kinds of magic are needed to get rid of it. Understand?”  
The elves nodded sheepishly.  
Professor McGonagall turned to Granny. “I understand.” Her voice was calm. “You’d better get going”.  
Granny nodded and strode off towards the rift.  
“Wait!” McGonagall shouted. “Will you be able to make it without a guide?”  
Granny smiled. “You think I don’t know what my home looks like?” And she stepped into the vortex.

Elsewhere, in another universe, wizards were attempting to work together. Having safely made it back to the Unseen University, Ridcully had gathered the faculty and was attempting to explain how to close the rift.  
“Who’s got a raft?” asked the Senior Wrangler.  
“Not a raft, a RIFT!” shouted Ridcully. “That thing!” He pointed at the swirling vortex.  
“Looks like Wednesday!” grinned the Bursar.  
“What’s happened to the Librarian?” demanded Ponder. “And who is this old woman?”  
“Old witch,” corrected Nanny, making Stibbons go pale.  
“Look,” shouted Ridcully, “give the Librarian to the Egregious Professor of Cruel and Unusual Geography, that Rincewind fellow; he’ll be staying away from trouble somewhere… and get the Bursar to help you,” he added, noticing the baffled Bursar was sticking his fingers into the edge of the phenomenon and laughing as they turned into kazoos and back.  
Ponder grabbed him, and between the two wizards, they managed to drag the collapsed orangutan away to safety.  
Ridcully turned to Nanny. “What about Esme? She’s won’t be able to get back without the Librarian, will she? He’s the only one who can get through L-Space.”  
“Oh, I wouldn’t worry about her,” Nanny replied cheerfully. “She’ll be back just to spite you for thinking she can’t.” She grinned. “Let’s get your lads doing something helpful, aye?”  
Clapping her hands together, the matriarch of the Ogg clan gained the attention of the disruly rabble of wizard with the skill of a woman who has spent a lifetime ruling over the feuds and fracas of every Ogg in the Ramtops.  
She organised the wizards with almost military precision. Ridcully gaped as the assembled faculty stood in line, ready for action, staffs pointing into the vortex. He would have been less shocked if she’d herded dragons.  
“Al’righ,” smiled Nanny. “Tell ‘em what wizard words to chant then!”  
“Yes - quite - thank you.” Ridcully relayed the instructions from Professor McGonagall to the assembled wizards before turning back to Nanny. “So do you need space to… dance around in circles? And um… to change… clothes… off… clothes… offfff...”  
He trailed off, blushing.  
“Not today, thanks, Mustrum, I’ll just cast spells if that alright by you.” Nanny beamed at the embarrassed Archchancellor. “Though maybe Esme and I will take you up on that later!”  
She walked away towards the vortex, chuckling to herself while Ridcully spluttered.  
As they worked to close the rift between the worlds, the vortex started to shrink. Occasional octarine bursts shot around them, but with less and less potency.  
Nanny started to worry. Esme was taking too long.  
She walked up to the last remnants of the opening. “Got lost, did you, Esme?”, she shouted into it. Her words echoed away into the vortex as it slowly closed into nothingness, pieces of paper flittered to the floor of the empty library, the atmosphere that of a long exhale.  
For a moment, there was nothing. Nanny stared in disbelief at where the hole had been.  
“Lost? LOST?!”  
Suddenly, a boot appeared mid-air, followed by a leg, another boot, another leg. Stepping from seemingly nowhere, Granny Weatherwax dropped onto the floor of the library. Straightening her skirt, she looked up at the smiling wrinkled walnut face that was her best friend. “Shame on you, Gytha. I never gets lost!”

FIN

Epilogue  
Sergeant Delphine Angua von Überwald padded through the snow. As a wolf she moved easily in these conditions, but something was off: this winter smelt wrong. She ran through seemingly endless winter woodland.  
Finally, she saw a light far in the distance. It wasn’t much of a light, but as the only visible… anything... that wasn’t trees or snow, she figured it was the best place to head.  
As she drew closer, she restrained the most dog-like part of her psyche. She had seen the source of the light and had had an immediate urge to pee on it.  
It was a lamp-post.


End file.
